Covert Ops: With Agent Billy
by Fizzy 13
Summary: Set to continue the Jr. CIA sideplot shown in the Secret Snake Club episode, Billy, now commander of the CIA's Endsville division, raids a warehouse full of... you guessed it, CLOWNS. Rating for swearing and maybe some violence.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Yes, short little story written just for kicks. It follows on the Billy subplot in the Secret Snake Club episode. Why? Because it's most probably my favorite episode yet. Whether or not I'm continuing this depends entirely on… well, I have no idea. I might continue it, I might not. I might let you decide. Who knows?

Disclaimer: Don't look at me for anything. All other than the plot of this fic belong to Maxwell Atoms. Bloody genius…

Covert Ops: With Special Agent Billy

By Fizzy 13

Be advised: The following transcript is classified and is only accessible to officers with Blue Level clearance or higher. Failure to comply with agency policy will merit unsightly consequences.

CIA Recruitment Log: Endsville Department, Junior Agent ID No. 42 "Billy"

Part 1

"_Billy": "Wow! Junior C-I-… A! How do I join?"_

"_Joe": That's classified._

"_Billy": What do I get to do?  
_

"_Joe": That's classified._

"_Billy": Do I at least get some good refreshments?  
_

"_Joe": He knows too much. Send in the cleaners._

Part 2

"_Holmes": So you want to join our organization, eh?_

"Billy": What organization?  


"_Holmes": The CIA._

"_Billy": D, E, X, G_

"_Holmes": Wha?  
_

"_Billy": J, K, L, M, N, O, P, Q R S, T U Z, Now I know my ABCs, next time won't you sing with me?  
_

"_Holmes": Do you think you have what it takes to be a part of this agency?  
_

"_Billy:" I have a rash on my butt! My mom says not to touch it, but I touch it anyway._

"_Holmes": Oookay…_

"_Billy": Please don't tell my mom! Are you invisible?  
_

"_Holmes": No, I'm in another room…_

"_Billy": The bathroom?  
_

"_Holmes": … What if we wiped your mind and turned you into a covert warrior?  
_

"_Billy": I LIKE FRENCH FRIES!_

Log End

And that was how it started, mostly. Who would've thought that some flatulent, large-nosed 10-year-old with an IQ of -5 being at the right booth at the right time would turn out to be such a successful operative? In a span of one month, "Junior" Agent Billy had shot up from the mere field operator responsible for the capture of Leaky Cologne _and_ Irwin/Jimmy the Jackal on the same day, to the section chief of the Endsville department. Why? Because he was just that good.

And it was that very reason why at the moment, three MH-60 Black Hawks loaded with the CIA's elite spook commandos were hovering above an old, seemingly abandoned candy factory on the edge of Endsville in broad daylight. Its aforementioned payload was fast-roping down into the decrepit structure with the grace of silence itself, sneaking inside as soon as they landed.

Speaking of the inside, the candy factory wasn't as abandoned as one would think. The agents were immediately met with heavy resistance. It was the clowns. Rubber bullets flew in one general direction, and cream-filled pies of assorted flavors flew in the other. What had started off as a simple commando raid had turned into a mess of pastries and bruises. Eventually, the superiorly armed and trained force won, the remainder of the clowns surrendering. They knew they were beat.

Not all was well on the agency's side, however. The pies had actually hit some people, and they were surprisingly more effective than expected. Several stretchers brought in by medical crew were already loaded and en route to the nearest ambulances. The commander surveyed the area. Other than that, the operation was going well. Time it was, to bring in the B-Man. "The building is secured, sir. You're cleared for entry."

It was at that moment that the front door burst open in the fury of a pound or two of C-4. Special Agent and Section Chief Billy walked in, flanked by two junior agents. He approached one of the clowns who was being restrained, identifying him as the leader. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Bozo the clown himself."

The clown grunted and proceeded to correct his captor. "Pennywise."

"Whatever," Billy cleared his throat and continued his wordy gloating, "Think you can just commit your heinous crimes on my turf and get away clean, eh? Think you can just use _my_ town as a testing site for your latest nefarious WMD and not get caught, eh? Think you can just… uh… fool around with me on the case, eh? Well guess what! You _can't_!"

It was at that moment that Pennywise decided to spurt out a modification of one of pop culture's most suitable quotes, "And I would've gotten away with it too, if it wasn't for you meddling CIA Agents." He turned to glance at the bomb squad dog that was sniffing around for whatever hidden explosives there might be, "And your dog, too."

"Idle threats, Pantyhose, idle threats."

"For the last time, you bloody idiot, it's _Pennywise_!"

The gloating was interrupted as an agent in a Hazmat suit came in to report. "Well?"

"We've confirmed it, sir. Their Orbital Pie Launcher is at 98 percent completion. If we hadn't dropped in when we did, God knows what could've happened to Endsville."

Billy's already tense expression intensified. That was a _really_ close call. Now came the deciding question: "What flavor were they planning to use for the filling?"

"Coconut Cream, sir," was the deadpan and, in a way, dread-filled response.

It seemed that a vein in Billy's head exploded at that moment, reflected by how his mouth evolved into a toothy snarl. "YOU. MONSTER." This was followed by a slap so powerful that the 10-year-old had to blow on his throbbing palm afterward. He turned to the commandos handling the clown. "Get this… _abomination_… out of my sight. And put him on Level 42 Lockdown while you're at it."

The agents in question saluted and took their quarry away.

Slightly relieved that it was over, Billy stepped outside and stared at the bright sun as it continued its journey west, sunglasses making sure that the UV light wasn't going to kill his eyesight anytime soon. And that was when he realized it. It was never over. It was never going to be over. If ever he died in action, that's all he was going to be – another nameless, faceless star on the wall at Langley. He adjusted his shades and panned his view down to the polis that this hill overlooked, so beautiful in its relatively public peace. None of the people there knew how close they came to total annihilation.

He stared down at a rather well-sized modern house down the road. A vaguely familiar little girl was apparently staring back at him, twin spires of her blonde hair glistening rather menacingly in the mid afternoon sunlight. She'd eventually grow up to be a threat to national security. There was no doubt about that. And when the time came, she'd have to be eliminated for that very same reason. And he would make sure that would happen. Even if he needed to pull the trigger on her himself.

"Sir," an agent disturbed his musings, "Langley wants to talk to you."

Billy nodded and switched frequencies on his comms watch. "Yes sir?"

"Agent Billy, as you know, we've been trying to expand on the Junior Agent project as of late – we know that you handling an entire agency section by yourself must be hard. So I'm suggesting you choose an assistant or two from your old acquaintances, and bring them in for interrogation and recruitment. This will be marked as your next assignment. Any qualms with this?"

"None, sir. It's all for national security after all."

"That's a good boy. HQ out."

_Old acquaintances, eh?_ He was going to have to think this one over. Who could be reliable enough not to spill the beans on this? Well. He'd find out soon enough. He looked over to that girl once again; apparently, her gaze had not been averted, almost as if she _knew_ he was there, _knew_ that he was watching her. This sent some unnatural chill up his spine. "Time to set up the ol' recruiting booth again, I guess."

The End?


	2. What's With This Club? That's Classified

AN: Well, since you guys asked for it…

Disclaimer: The style of parodying characters from well-known series, as well as most of the characters here belong to Maxwell Atoms.

CH: 2 – What's With This Club? That's Classified

Joe stood calmly in front of the booth. For some strange reason or another, only a month or so had passed, and yet the gang was all here again, dozens of club booths up and recruiting students from Endsville Elementary. Why? Well. Not even the extensive capabilities of the Central Intelligence Agency could figure out what the mother of macaroni and Swiss cheese was wrong with this school, hell this whole town even.

Dressed in the standard 'suit' look, complete with the visible commlink wire coiling up into his ear, he had become infamous for freaking out passerby fans of the Matrix trilogy into running off to Nurse Pembroke's office screaming something on the lines of "There is no spoon!" Pembroke would then be forced to issue them some Prozac. That would make it slightly better for awhile, then the side effects would start to work, rendering it worse than before.

The Junior Agent paid no heed to this, of course. These conspiracy theorists were of no consequence, really. A few people had tried out his booth, in particular. Some found themselves on the wrong end of the preliminary personality test. Others would have made it, had they not done some pointless things like commenting on how bland or tasteless the design was.

Then there came some whatshername ponytail redhead who confidently snubbed his attire and fashion sense, or, in clichéd writing, lack thereof. It took him all of his strength to resist hitting her with the tranq gun and dragging her off to some safehouse where _he _could confidently snub her attitude, ridiculously high-pitched voice, and freckles… maybe ruin her 'pretty' face with a two by four too, while he was at it. The fact that she was class president wasn't of any consequence to him either. All bitches were the same in his book.

That was when the B-Man arrived to supervise the recruitment. Joe nodded as his boss took his place, manning the booth.

Mindy struck again. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but… don't I know you from somewhere?" She looked him over. Same crap fashion sense as his buddy, hair combed in a style that was screaming "LAME", inhumanly huge nose. "Oh, that's right. You're Billy from the _loser_ gang. Where've you been all this time? Hanging out with some new _loser_ friends?"

"That's classified," was the simple and curt answer.

"Oh sure, you say that now, _loser_," Mindy continued in that signature taunting tone. "But once I tell everybody here about how much you suck, then we'll see how classified you can get!"

Billy merely adjusted his sunglasses. "If you don't have anything better to talk about, Mindy, then I suggest you GET. THE HELL. AWAY. from my booth."

"Oh, and your club name stinks too. It just _reeks_ of the word _loser_. I mean, seriously, what kind of a name is 'Junior CIA?'" She then promptly started to laugh her ass off. "What, are you trying to recruit some hapless kid into the world of _lose_ionage?"

"What do we do about her, sir?" Joe whispered.

"Ignore unless absolutely necessary, Joe. Ignore." Eventually, she ran out of insults and left them alone, probably to go find and bug Mandy and company like she always did. _Well thank John Connor that's over._ "That definitely crosses Mindy off the prospective list. Who else do we have?"

Joe procured a clipboard and read from the attached sheet. "Candidates list has some four students left to account for, sir."

"We don't have time for this… There has to be-"

He was interrupted by that all-too-familiar voice, the voice that utterly oozed something that a random kid had long ago abbreviated into the convenient 'DFACC' – Dark, Foreboding, And Charmingly Cynical. "Billy, what the _hell_ are you doing in that booth?"

"What's it look like I'm doing?" was the equally rude response. "You're a smart girl, Mandy. Figure it out."

The Reaper's enslaver examined the simple, to-the-point makeup of the booth. No fancy decorations, no gimmicks, no nothing whatsoever other than the sign and the registration sheet and pen. It was as prim and proper as Billy's new down-the-middle do and matching suit. The sunglasses were pushing it, though. "Gee. I never thought you'd get into the intelligence business. What's in it for me if I sign up?"

"You… don't."

That signature glare of hers found its way to its target. Apparently, though, those bloody shades had rendered him immune to her power. "And why not?"

"Because you're not on the list of prospective candidates." The fact that he had gotten into a verbal debacle with the possible replacement for Leto Atreides II was improving his ego. He wasn't the moronic -5 IQ nose picker that he used to be. No, he was a superior being, perhaps even a match for the one person to actually subjugate Death after cheating him at limbo. "Despite your... interesting… track record, there's no place for you with us."

"Is it because I'm too much of a security risk?" Mandy smirked darkly. "That's why they're called risks, Billy. It's a game of chance."

"And I'm not one to take my chances on somebody like you." He slammed his pen onto the makeshift table for emphasis. "Leave us, Mandy. You're not wanted."

She merely shrugged and turned around. "Alright, Billy. You win. For now." That was a serious waste of time. But she of course, already knew that. _Any fool can grab a tiger by the balls. It takes a real hero to keep on holding._ How this simple message from the late Mister Stark translated into her philosophy for the situation was probably known only to her, as she walked away.

"Sir… Why'd you do that?" Joe was surprised at his superior's performance. "Langley was hoping to get _her_ into the fold."

"I have my own reasons, Joe, and believe me, one of these days, you'll realize that they'll be fully justified." He crossed Mandy's name off the list with a triple strikethrough. _That's right, Joe. One of these days. I'm sure you'll understand._ "Who's next?"

"We have Sperg, Puddin', and… Nergal Junior."

"Better to get their attention than wait for them to notice us, Joe. Get to it." Billy took a sip from his coffee mug as the junior agent nodded and went searching for the rest of the prospective candidates. Yep, it was going to be another one of those days.

To be continued? Maybe…

AN: Don't ask me what the hell that King excerpt was supposed to mean. After all, who knows what goes on in a mind like Mandy's? So yeah… There's another one of my two cents.


End file.
